Eternity, Sherlolly Angst
by Maejones
Summary: Love for Molly and Sherlock proves everlasting.


A dark, hazy cloud full of lightning and filled with thunderous noise retreated from Molly's view like some sort of globulous entity shrinking away. In the midst of this strange nebula were images and sounds she recognized as anxious and fearful; an incredibly blinding flash followed by vibrations and screaming. In its dearth was a blackness like nothing she had ever experienced. She tried to open her eyes but for several moments nothing happened. It was as if she was no longer in possession of lids.

Then she felt the first stirrings of a breeze that was so gentle and comforting she thought she might be floating in a lake warmed by the heat of a summer's day. She wiggled her fingers. They tingled and subsequently, she felt the whisper of an almost intangible fluid slip between them. Not water, not wet, but not dry either. Finally, she managed to blink into the next level of consciousness but there was blackness there as well.

Molly strained to discern any kind of shape as she could feel her eyes again. For a few seconds, she thought she might be blind but then far-off pin-points of light winked into view. Soon, she found she was looking at the night sky in as glorious an intensity as she had ever seen. She breathed a sigh of relief. Her lungs burned with the effort and that palpable stinging sensation precipitated a propulsion into an even more intimate view of the milky way as if she'd been thrust a million light years closer.

She stared in awe at it as it seemed to pulse with life. The thought struck her that this was not normal. She looked around and found she was twisting in a great pocket of nothingness. She panicked and flailed her limbs only to realize she was enveloped by space. She was drifting in space.

Loneliness slapped her like a shock wave. She was utterly confused. How could this be?

"Molly," A deep intonation rattled the universe.

A tear ran down her face. "Sh-Sherlock?"

She felt the soft glide of his thumb pad as he corralled her tear but she couldn't see him.

"Sherlock!" She cried.

"It is okay, Molly, I am here."

And he was. In the next heartbeat he was there with his pale, ethereal face just inches from her own. His hands cupped her face as he stared down at her with vivid, back-lit blue-green irises. His skin glowed in contrast to the shadowed collar of his great coat. A smile curved his lips.

"Wh-What has happened?" She whispered.

A fleeting frown furrowed his brow. "You died. I am sorry."

She hiccuped and felt her features contort in misery. "What? A-Are you certain?"

He nodded. Her chest tightened and her shoulders shuddered. How could she be dead when she felt every miserable inch of her cold flesh? How could she be dead if she could feel his breaths on her face?

"I don't understand. Where are we?"

His lips turned up in a smile once more. "Well, it must be heaven if you are here."

Molly studied his face. In that instant, his skin appeared somewhat translucent and the sky behind him became visible. She felt a sickening rise of panic.

"No!" She tried to clutch at him but her hands swished through vapors. "No! Please!"

"I can't follow you, Molly," she heard him rumble as his visage faded.

"Sherlock!" She called. "Don't go! Please, I wasn't finished. I had so much more to do. I had so much more to say t-to you. Oh, God! Oh, God, I can still feel your hands on my face … hu-uh."

"I can't follow you, Molly," his voice was distant, "but … maybe . . you can find me."

The feel of his rough hands lightened and suddenly she was thrashing in the void against the invisible wisps. She found herself almost swimming in place for a few moments with tears pouring down her cheeks.

"I-I can't! I can't!"

Then she became angry and hot and in her seething about everything she had been denied, gravity gathered in the center of her being. Every cell in her body collapsed and compressed until she felt indescribably heavy. The stars around her lurched and began to rotate. Their movement was slow at first, then increased in momentum until they were spinning so swiftly that they blurred into streaks. In the next second, they were falling in on her like liquid lightning sucked into a vacuum.

"Sherlock!" The light was so intense she thought her eyes would burn from her sockets. "Sherlock!"

"Molly," his voice was deafening, "you are killing me. Please, I am in hell. Stop this … j-just stop it."

She was so frustrated. She waved her hands around.

"What can I do? Tell me what to do!"

"Find your strength. Use it. Find me!"

In the blistering light she finally slapped her left hand into something warm and solid. She felt fingers squeeze her own and squashed them in return. She was nearly crying in relief.

"Sherlock?"

"Molly!"

The light took the form of a long rectangle. She blinked a few times. Gravity shifted and something semi-soft slammed into her back. Familiar, chemical smells prickled her nostrils. Pain erupted all over her form as if she'd been battered with batons. She sucked in a quivering breath as she felt the dull prick of something in the back of her right hand and an itchy sensation travelling the length of her arm. She groaned.

The shadow of a head loomed over her and the face of a dark angel came into sharp focus. Her fingers were squeezed again. Sherlock, in all his glory with eyes rimmed in red smiled down at her as if she were a riddle he had just solved.

"Hello."

Molly winced at the force of her pain. "I am … a-at Bart's?"

He nodded.

"What h-happened?"

His expression went grim momentarily. "You died."

"But I-I am not dead now."

He shook his head and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "No, you are only mostly dead."

"Why?"

He swallowed.

"There was a bombing. I will tell you more about it later but you were near it. Some shrapnel pierced your lung and grazed your heart. You have had surgery and expected to survive. Erm, this is a very recent prognosis," he mumbled, "and not an expert opinion by any means. Though, I do fancy myself skilled enough to make this determination-"

"Sherlock," she wheezed.

"Mm?"

"Be," she heaved a breath, "quiet. I … need … to … tell … you … something."

He looked nervous all of a sudden. "No you don't."

"Yes … I … do-"

"No, actually, you do not. You love me. I know this. Genius, remember? But yes, I suppose you have not communicated this to me verbally before but I did, in fact, know. However, you knew that I knew, did you not?"

She sighed and wrinkled her nose. "A-Arse! What is … your … point?"

"Well, then you didn't come back to make a confession but to obtain one."

"Wr- …Wrong," she panted.

He crooked a brow.

"I … forgot … to shut … off my o-ven."

Sherlock laughed and stroked her face while a tear rolled from his eye. "Christ, I love you. Do not ever frighten me like that again."

"A-And I love you, Sherlock," she closed her eyes from fatigue, "stay … with … me?"

"Always, Molly Hooper, always," he kissed her forehead, "I would be adrift without _you_."


End file.
